


~Ass~assins

by meowthatswhatimtalkingabout



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, I'm lazy, Swearing, TYL, because Xanxus seems calmer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-01 09:25:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowthatswhatimtalkingabout/pseuds/meowthatswhatimtalkingabout
Summary: When he gets word that there's a hit out on you, your doting uncle calls in a favor and sends you to stay with some allies until it blows over. Never mind that he sent you to a mansion full of sociopathic assassins and now you're not sure who is going to kill you first - the assassins after you or the assassins "protecting" you.Eventual Reader/Xanxus ... at least, that's the plan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yooo! So I wanna get a little disclaimer out of the way - Xanxus may be out of character at times, if your typical characterization of Xanxus is a pathologically violent alcoholic. Like, he is those things, but I don't really feel like writing a Reader who wants to catch feelings for a dude that's like wall to wall physically abusive. Y'know, just like, verbally and emotionally abusive. And hey, he seems almost docile in the TYL arc right? Guys? Anybody?

Out of necessity, you'd learned how to quickly ingratiate yourself to other people upon first meeting. It was born out of the near constant stream of scary, bizarre, and off-putting strangers you'd had to entertain as a receptionist at your uncle's contracting company, which was absolutely, 100% a cover and laundering operation for your "family."

You did your best to ignore this -- as a college student, you really needed the money and your uncle paid you more than your current skill sets would afford you anyplace else. 

Plus, as his niece you were technically "part of the family," though you never really felt that way. Your mother was the veritable black sheep, and though she hadn't been kicked out, she'd burned so many bridges that people stopped inquiring about her; stopped thinking about her. She'd suffered a lot as a member of the family, but when she wanted those responsible held accountable, her pleas fell on deaf ears. Because the responsible ones were also powerful allies; powerful, wealthy allies.

Your mother's mental health had suffered a great deal, and now she received no financial support and all her employment options had dried up. Sometimes, in the mafia, they didn't need to shoot you to kill you. Sometimes they just closed every avenue, squashed every glimmer of hope, and then sat back and waited for you to do it yourself. 

Needless to say, you hated most of the people you interacted with on a daily basis.

But as you and your mother's situation became more dire, you knew they were your only option. Turned out you were having a strangely difficult time finding employment other places, too. 

Even though they likely arranged it so you could only work for them, they viewed it as an act of contrition when you came looking for employment. You were there to work off your mother's figurative debts -- the shame and embarrassment she'd caused the family by asking that cruel men be held accountable. 

Fucking bastards. 

That's why school was important to you. That was an arena they currently had no sticky fingers in, and you knew if you got a good degree you could make enough to not need them anymore. 

And so, you did your best to swallow your distaste for the people around you and work hard. You showed up early, you always looked your best, and you were kind and gracious with guests.

Unfortunately, being young, kind, and even vaguely attractive often translated into unwanted advances from guests. When men got too forward with you was perhaps the only time you mentioned your affiliation to the family.

"Oh, my Uncle _____ prefers I don't date so I can focus on school." It was bullshit, of course, but it worked. 

Except for the time it didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE GETTING THERE

You sat on the plane, staring forlornly at the hands curled in your lap. Your uncle hadn’t told you anything about where you were going, but boarding passes don’t lie. 

Italy.

To escape an assassin, he was sending you to Italy, the assassin capital of the world. 

You sighed. The fact of the matter was he really, really wanted to get you away from him and this was the first place that wasn’t at all associated with Angelo’s family. 

Ah, Angelo. The whole ordeal had happened so quickly you were trying to use the long journey to piece it together. 

You’d managed to ease your way out of plenty of uncomfortable situations created by the unwanted advances of insecure men trying to show off for their colleagues and/or subordinates. Hell, you understood – mafia dudes were toxic masculinity personified, and it was awfully safe to hit on the woman who had “be respectful” in her job description. 

Your body slumped and nausea stirred in your gut when you thought about your interaction with Angelo, though. Even from your short meeting, he seemed as stupid as he was ill-tempered. 

Angelo, the son of an “allied” family with your own, had wasted no time in not only pulling you into his lap but beginning to arrange your arrival at his hotel room that night. “Wear something, y’know, nicer. You look so cheap in this stuff. Don’t they pay you enough?” 

Your uncle had laughed off the interaction and initially you’d done your best to do the same. Hey, what was a little more sexual harassment, right?

You’d pulled yourself from his lap feeling flushed and embarrassed, gritting your teeth and carefully avoiding the eyes of Angelo’s smirking subordinates. 

And had you been lucky, that would’ve been the end of it. But Angelo was relentless, and when his hand began to inch up your skirt, the tray of hot coffee you were holding had just slipped.

He was burned sort of badly. Sort of really badly, and he would sort of definitely require skin grafts to treat the burns on his upper body. 

Hey, your uncle always insisted the coffee be served hot.

When you thought about it, you felt a little guilty.

Nah, no you didn’t. 

This plane ride was really fucking long, though.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a fucking mansion. You gaped at the estate before you – this couldn’t be right, could it? 

You hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t anything this extravagant.

You turned to ask the driver of the town car if this was the right place, but your words were cut off by the slam of his car door. The driver didn’t look back at you once as he put the car in gear and peeled away, kicking up a cloud of dirt that left you coughing. 

“Wh-what the fuck?” you choked as you waved fruitlessly at the air. 

You saw two black heaps on the ground where the car had been moments before and breathed a sigh of relief that at least he’d chucked your things before making his mad dash away from the estate. 

You sighed, walking the few steps to close the distance between you and most of your worldly belongings when a small object embedded itself in the ground, blocking your path. You went rigid, looking carefully at the item and realizing it was an oddly shaped silver knife.

Before the panic of avoiding booby traps fully took hold, you heard voices approaching and whipped your head around to their source. 

“Bel, stop it~! You’ll scare her and she only just got here.” 

“Shishishi…she should be scared.”

Two tall men were walking leisurely towards you, one wearing sunglasses and an asymmetrical tri-color do, the other wearing a tiara over a mane of wild blond hair that fell past his eyes. They both had beige and black jackets on that seemed to be part of a uniform. 

You were still a little scared to move given that it was apparently raining knives. 

“Hello dear,” the man in sunglasses offered as he neared, and you nodded in response, clearing your throat and trying to find your voice. 

“Hello. I’m—”

“We know who you are, peasant,” the blond cut you off, a humorless grin stretching across his face. 

Your face flushed in a mix of rage and embarrassment. Several venomous responses whirled in your head, but a louder voice reminded you that you didn’t know anything about these men and were stuck with them for the foreseeable future.

“Bel, don’t be so rude,” the man in sunglasses corrected him, sounding affronted on your behalf.

“I’m sorry dear, he’s rather unpleasant but you get used to it,” he said, taking your hand.

“My name is Lussuria,” “I’ll kill you,” the two men said in unison. Lussuria dutifully ignored his colleague and continued, “You can call me Mama Luss. We received a dossier on you from your uncle. We think you’ll make an excellent assistant for our Boss!” 

“Mama say what?”


	4. Chapter 4

There was a rush of frigid air and the loud scraping of stone on stone. You yelped in surprise and pain as you fell on the floor, the wind briefly knocked out of you.

Not again.

You’d been in this haunted house of an estate for two days and you’d already fallen down/into multiple trap doors/wardrobes. 

Luss, who you’d kindly declined to call “Mama Luss,” turned out to be your uncle’s only actual contact here, which was why you supposed he was willing to escort you himself even given his high stature in the Varia. And Bel had tagged along to torment you because that was Bel’s brand.

Luss had even been so kind as to explain to you the arrangement he and your uncle had made when you’d gaped at him like a horrified fish when he’d mentioned your new position as the assistant to the Varia’s own Boss, Xanxus. And what the Varia was. 

You sort of wish you didn’t have to live with the knowledge that you were surrounded by trained killers, but you were getting excellent practice at suppressing a nervous breakdown, which seemed like a great resume booster. 

He’d then gone onto to say that most assistants didn’t last here and then carefully avoided your questions about what the hell happened to them. 

You supposed it made sense in a morbidly ironic sort of way—what better place for to escape the wrath of a mafioso with an anger issue than working for a different mafioso with an anger issue?

Was that irony? Or just shitty luck?

Truth be told, you hadn't heard anything especially positive about Xanxus since you'd arrived, but it was possible he wasn't as bad as Bel and all the subordinates who said they'd attend your funeral made him out to be. Still, since Xanxus was in Japan for the time being you hadn't been able to form your own opinion. You kept picturing Angelo in a Varia uniform and getting sick to your stomach. 

It was time to focus on the present, though—the present being a dark, gloomy, stone hallway somewhere beneath the earth’s crust. 

You sighed and picked yourself up off the dirty stone floor, brushing off your pants. Most of these tunnels emptied out somewhere, as you were pretty sure they were used as escape routes and not just a place to let bodies decompose as Bel had suggested. 

...Bel had really been bugging you a lot these past couple days.

You looked in either direction, but both disappeared into darkness. The only light was provided by durable work lamps, but they were scarcely placed and only allowed you to visualize so far. 

You started in one direction – hey, either you’d find the end of the tunnel or die a horrible death. 

Or both.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a body. This hallway was poorly lit, but you saw the contour of shoulders, a hand, two feet. 

Your blood thumped in your ears and you had to force yourself to concentrate to keep your thoughts from devolving into a jumble of adrenaline-fueled nonsense. Had Bel not been lying? Did they really keep bodies down here? 

Despite all your time in the presence of creepy, horrible people, you’d never actually been involved in anything close to murder. You’d never even seen a dead body besides the ones in your anatomy labs and they really hadn’t prepared you for this. 

Your own body felt heavy. The isolation of the hallway suddenly seemed to be closing in on you – your mouth went dry, and you had to try several times before you could force it open.

“Hey,” your voice was a croaky whisper. You cleared your throat, ran your tongue over the inside of your mouth to collect whatever moisture was there. “Hey!” 

At the sound of your voice, the body began to twitch— so they were alive?

You took a cautious step forward. No more twitching. You took another step. Nothing. Your breathing was ragged and uncontrolled, and you consciously willed yourself not to panic, even as you got closer. 

When you were 10 feet from the body, you stopped. What small light the hallway afforded you revealed a shape that wasn’t quite right. It was something that approximated human but wasn’t human at all. 

You were too shocked to scream when it began twitching again, more violently this time, and a horrible cracking and popping sound arose from its deformed joints as it began to lift itself from the floor. You took a step back, intending to run, but you couldn’t take your eyes off it.

The strange creature twitched and popped until it reached its full height, nearly grazing the ceiling. It hadn’t been that long before—it was transforming. 

You stared at the awful sight before you, a monster with a humanoid form and a nasty, horrible, dripping grin. 

You were almost hypnotized with terror as it loomed forward. You didn’t even realize that your body was moving backwards, but your legs were shakily stepping in the opposite direction. 

Run. You had to run—it was time to run. You about-faced and began sprinting, and with your movement it seemed to set the thing off. You could hear it behind you, snapping, popping, scraping its way along the hallway—and it was close. 

You shrieked, but the sound was far away. 

Behind you the snapping and popping grew louder, and you heard what sounded like a hissing laugh. 

You ran until you felt like your chest and throat were filled with embers. Your breathing came out in ragged gasps, and your legs had gone rubbery from the strain. You’d been running so long you were sure you ran past the spot you originally fell. This thing was forcing you in the other direction, and you were just hoping there weren’t more of whatever it was wherever you ended up. 

There was light, though—there was actual light up ahead, you just had to reach it. 

You couldn’t hear the nasty popping or cracking sounds anymore but you didn’t stop running. The light got brighter, and as you neared you realized it must’ve been another secret door—you vaguely made out hinges and a door handle.

When you reached it, you yanked on it with all your might, mentally rejoicing when it easily opened with a loud creak. You threw yourself through it and forced it shut behind you. You fell against the door, which on this side was just a rectangular section of wall with ornate coverings. You panted heavily and allowed your rubbery legs to officially give out as you sank to the ground. 

“You have 30 seconds to explain yourself, trash.” 

Your eyes popped open. 

Shit. 

~Varia Surveillance Room~

“Why do you want to scare her so badly? You’re being perverted, aren’t you, Sempai?”

One of Belphegor’s knives embedded itself into Fran’s giant frog hat. 

“Shi~, do as I say, stupid frog.” 

The two sat in one of the Varia’s control rooms, this one housing a wall of monitors with video feeds from the hundreds of security cameras filling the estate. 

The one they stood before featured a tired looking woman wondering through the east wing escape tunnel. 

“Fine. How spooky should it be?”


	6. Chapter 6

You tried to calm your breathing but your body was still too desperate for oxygen. Your chest heaved and your throat burned as you sat on the floor of what you now realized was a sprawling, elegantly decorated office.

You made cautious eye contact with the man behind the large, mahogany desk. His legs were resting atop it, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He wore a white dress shirt with a Varia jacket tossed over his shoulders. His red eyes bore into yours, and though his outward countenance appeared bored, you could see deep rage burning there. 

“20 seconds.”

“S-Sorry,” you forced out, sounding panicked. “Sorry. There was something in there—a monster.” 

The man glared at you as you forced yourself back onto your feet, using the wall behind you as a brace. 

“But looks like there’s a monster in here too,” you mumbled, and a glass shattered on the wall next to your head.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” you screamed, turning wide eyes back to the man.

“Noisy trash,” the man growled. “Sounds like it’s time for you to go back in that tunnel.” He smirked darkly at you, slowly lifting his legs off the desk. 

“No, no, no!” you half-screamed as you stumbled out of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case it's in unclear I'm setting up a lil Bel love triangle because WHY NOT. Also I'm sorry so much of this is boring non-Xanxus action, he's sleeping and doesn't want to participate.

You wandered down the hallway directionless and disillusioned, having come to an important conclusion: you were going to die here.

Though you never got a name from the man who threw stem wear at you, you were positive you'd just met Xanxus. He embodied all the malice the other Varia members had described. 

So whether it be at the hands of the horrifying monster you'd just met or that shadow demon in the hallway, you were going to die.

"Shi~ How's it going, peasant?"

Belphegor and Fran stood ten feet ahead of you, and had Bel not spoken you may not have noticed them. 

"Hi Bel; hi Fran," you offered tonelessly, not even glancing at the two of them as you walked past.

"Eh, Bel-sempai, she looks like the zombies in that movie we watched. You should tell her what you made me do."

Bel's grin widened. You paused to look back at them, "What?" 

Bel opened his mouth to speak, but Fran interrupted him, "I sent a little monster after you. You looked ridiculous when you screamed-"

Fran's words were abruptly cut off when Bel smacked the back of his head, "I'm going to sew your mouth shut." 

"Oww, Bel-sempai, you hit me on accident again."

You stared at Bel for a moment, eye twitching, while he started laughing. 

"WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?! I've only been here two days, you can't possibly hate me this much already!"

"I don't have to explain myself. I'm a prince."

"And Sempai has a crush on you."

Bel's grin faltered briefly as you stared at him. He recovered quickly, "What would a prince possibly see in a peasant?"

You huffed, turning on your heel.

At least the monster wasn't real. Well...one of the monsters wasn't real.


	8. Chapter 8

You sat in your bedroom, legs still gummy and aching from all the running you'd done earlier today. To be honest, your brain felt gummy too. 

You'd been too enraged (and frankly, embarrassed) to stay near Bel or Fran after the fun revelation, but the unease you'd been feeling about your own mortality had only spiked when you were alone and their words settled. 

Fran had sent a monster after you? How? Was that a sophisticated hologram? The place was sprawling and ornate - clearly they could afford technology like that if they wanted to. But had technology really gotten so far as to make something so horribly realistic? 

You'd gone looking for Luss after that, him being the only person who had been vaguely accommodating. Thankfully, he was easy enough to find and he didn't protest when you asked to speak to him alone. 

You told him, then, about the monster and about Fran's words, imploring him for an explanation. 

"Oh dear," he said, sounding almost sympathetic. "You don't even know about the flames, do you?"

"The flames?"

Luss hesitated, a finger on his chin. "You know, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you. You're going to see them eventually, anyway. And it's not like you're going back to _(homeland)_ anytime soon!" 

His words stung, but you turned your wince into a weak smile. "Right. So, please, tell me." 

Luss had then carefully explained about the rings, the flames, the attributes, the powers they afforded. He spoke with quite a flourish when showing you his sun ring, clearly very proud of it. He lit a yellow flame as an example, and you'd gasped, unable to keep from staring. Luss seemed to swell a little under the attention. 

You asked questions here and there, trying to wrap your head around it. 

And when you couldn't handle any more information, you'd offered a sincere "thank you" and excused yourself, feeling dazed.

You supposed you shouldn't be surprised. Your family, as far as mafia families went, was pretty low on whatever hierarchy there was. A lot of shady business deals made by self-important men was the bedrock of it. 

Your uncle and all those who'd come through had never once spoken of rings or flames, and you didn't believe they were hiding it. You realized there must be huge sections of the mafia world that had no idea, too encumbered in their own scraping and fighting to realize they were all hopelessly outclassed in a way they couldn't even imagine. 

Your uncle had been extremely vague when he spoke to you about an old contact. What he truly impressed upon you was that if you left peacefully, your mother would be taken care of. But maybe he didn't know about the Varia after all. Maybe he only knew Luss from long ago and didn't realize the organization he was apart of. 

But if he did know, it would be perfect, wouldn't it? He could save face with Angelo and your own family by sending you away and cutting you off. And then, should something horrible happen to occur while you were away - well, what's to be expected? It was a colony of assassins!

You hugged your knees to your chest, a few tears falling as you admitted to yourself, with finality this time, which scenario was more likely. 

You sighed. 

Luss was right. You weren't going home any time soon.


	9. Chapter 9

Well, your “family” had a potentially fatal indifference for your well-being, you were surrounded by trained killers, your new job was to be in regular proximity to their super spooky leader, and everyone could shoot rainbow flames out of their fingers. 

Time to start the day! 

You got dressed, doing your best to appear presentable. You'd resigned yourself to the necessity of salvaging your first impression with Xanxus. 

Not that he had made a stellar first impression, either, but if you were stuck here you were convinced you could at least have something resembling a normal working relationship.

Though, this time, you wouldn’t give control over to someone else. No more unwanted physical contact, no more crude comments…

You practiced different openings on the way to his office, trying to find a way to sound both deferential and confident at the same time. 

You reached his office door and found it slightly ajar. You took a breath to steady yourself and gingerly pushed it open so you could step in. 

You heard the glass shatter and felt the liquid splash against your face without ever having seen the projectile coming toward you. He must’ve been quick with that one. 

“Trash, did I say you could enter?” 

You snapped. It was no small feat keeping your rage neatly tucked away during the time you were employed with your uncle. But lately, with all the stress, it appeared your last wells of self-control had run dry. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m your new assistant, not target practice!” 

As you spoke, you stomped over to his desk, stopping when you stood next to it. Your rational mind, still alive in there somewhere, was reminding you to keep your distance, but you couldn’t – keeping a safe distance would only make you appear afraid. You wanted him to know you weren’t afraid.

You needed him to know you weren’t afraid.

Xanxus leveled a look at you that was part anger and part incredulity, as if he couldn’t believe how stupid you were. 

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” he said in a low, dangerous tone, his eyes boring into you. 

You resisted the compulsion to gulp, instead calling upon the reserves of rage that had gotten you into this mess to carry you through, “I’m your new assistant. You could just order me to kill myself and save yourself the trouble.” 

And your very bleak sense of humor, of course.

Xanxus smirked at you, and you felt warmth prickle up your spine. 

“Get me a drink, Trash,” he said.

“_first name_,” you corrected, leveling the most serious look you could muster at him. 

The smirk fell from his face, and he reprimanded quickly, “Careful.”

You huffed, but stepped away to look around the office when you noticed the bar in the far corner. You made your way to it quickly, high on adrenaline and (though you didn’t want to admit it) a desire to please. 

He didn’t specify what he wanted and you refused to ask to convince yourself that you didn’t care if he was happy or not. 

You offered him a whiskey. 

“Xanxus,” you said pointedly; quietly. 

“_first name_,” he responded sarcastically, taking the glass from you. 

A smile twitched at your lips, but you suppressed it. Your rage had quieted back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it a believable enough Xanxus? Whoever this guy I'm writing is, I kinda like him, so I might not actually care. Unless it's like, glaringly bad. TELL ME, SWEET READERS


	10. Chapter 10

Things seemed more routine after that first (official) meeting – well, as routine as being the assistant to the leader of an assassin organization could be. 

At first, Xanxus hadn’t seemed to need much assistance with anything substantial. A lot of your days were spent cleaning his office or quarters, keeping him “hydrated,” and intercepting unwanted visitors. 

The latter was sometimes an exercise in futility, but amazingly most people didn’t question you when you informed them that Xanxus was unavailable and you’d have to see them instead. Most people seemed relieved. 

With Squalo, though, you never had any luck, and you were starting to regard his unwanted entry into Xanxus’s office as a personal challenge. 

The first time you’d met him his scream of “VOOOOOI” had shocked you so much you’d screamed and dropped the drink you were holding. 

Squalo had stopped to raise an eyebrow at you, before pointing and asking, “Who the fuck is this?”

You’d stooped to start picking up the glass on the floor, looking up to meet his eyes and offering, “His assistant; who the fuck are you and why are you so loud?” 

Xanxus had laughed at that, a sound full of cruel mirth that made you uneasy. 

Today Xanxus was extra hungover and had tasked you with ensuring no one entered his office. You sighed, knowing Squalo was within the estate and if anything came up it was only a matter of time. 

“VOOOOI!” 

And speak of the devil. You supposed you should be grateful he was good about announcing his approach. You hurried out of the office, already seeing the dark scowl forming on Xanxus’s face.

“Hey!” you whispered harshly, intercepting him in the hallway, “Not today, or at least not now – he’s extra terrible.”

“I’m getting tired of this,” Squalo said, pointing in your face. “Move aside, scum.” 

With that, he shoved you out of his way and opened the door to the office. You saw red for a moment before leaping at him, jumping on his back like you were demanding a piggy-back ride.

“Voi?! What the fuck are you doing?” 

You put him in the tightest headlock you could, which probably wasn’t very tight. “I said get out!” 

Xanxus opened one eye to take in the source of his growing irritation.

“Woman if you don’t get off me—” 

Squalo didn’t finish his threat as you dug your heels into his thigh. He hissed, pitching forward intending to flip you off him, but you clung tight and ended up tipping both of you off balance. 

With a harsh thud you hit the ground, groaning loudly when Squalo’s weight was added to the equation moments later. 

“Now you get off me,” you said in a strained voice, pushing up on his chest. 

He opened his mouth to retort when his body was abruptly and forcefully removed from yours. Xanxus stood over you, but was looking where Squalo had landed.

“Bastard! What was that for?!”

Xanxus drew a gun and began firing without any further preamble. You bit back a shriek and dragged yourself backwards along the carpet to place more distance between yourself and the raining gunfire. 

Squalo, to his credit, escaped unharmed, dodging bullets and cursing the whole way. 

“Shitty Boss!” he growled as he skidded into the hallway. 

Xanxus turned on you then, and you flung your hands in the air from your position on the ground, “Don’t shoot!”

He stomped over to you, grabbing you by your outstretched wrists and pulling you off the ground. 

He held your wrists even when you were back on your feet, looking at you with a disgusted sneer. 

“I tried—”

“To do what? Piss me off?” 

You snapped your mouth shut. He’d leaned closer when he spoke, growling his last few words. 

You struggled to think of something to say. His proximity caused such a rush of adrenaline that you felt light-headed. 

His hands tugged up and back on your wrists, causing your chest to collide with his. His name left your lips in a startled gasp. It was all but impossible for you to ignore the way your breasts rubbed against his chest with each breath, and so you tried hard to slow your breathing. 

“I don’t ever want to see a display like that again,” he bit out, fire dancing in his eyes.

“O-Okay,” you stammered. "Okay, I'm sorry." 

Xanxus looked at you for a moment longer, appraising. 

“_first name_,” he murmured then, his eyes taking on a mischievous glint. 

You shuddered, cursing internally. “Yeah?”

“Get me a drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder why he got so mad ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	11. Chapter 11

You'd gotten him his drink and then spent the rest of the day trying not to flush every time he looked at you. You swore he found your reactions hilarious if his haughty smirk had been any indication.

What was that part about you being in control this time? About no more unwanted physical contact?

'Well, it's not unwanted,' your rational mind corrected immediately and you nearly threw your head into the wall to shut it up. 

Given the fact that Xanxus had moved into your brain against your will, you'd come up with multiple excuses (well, schemes) to leave the office before you'd even arrived the next morning. After all, it seemed like a clever idea to put some space between you and tall, dark and fuckable.

If anything happened between the two of you and the relationship soured, either one or both of you would be miserable (most likely you), or you’d be dismissed and have no place to go. You already hated being dependent on the organization for protection as it were, and it seemed too easy for the relationship to become coercive; how could it not, when the power imbalance was already so blatant? 

And so, you’d resolved to let this silly infatuation run its course while never, ever acting on it. You knew it’d be difficult at times, but you’d done it before – letting yourself fantasize while keeping a cool exterior. After all, when you let your rational mind continue to speak to you, it made some good points – Xanxus was cruel, violent, impatient, and had a blatant disregard for the people around him. Could you even talk to him about anything that normal humans talked about? 

No – Xanxus was a recipe for disaster for you. You knew you were angry, and you knew you were a resilient person after everything you’d been through – but your lonely, empty nights spent crying were a stringent reminder that you were also very human, and very broken. Xanxus couldn’t help you with those wounds; he could only deepen them. 

These thoughts swirled in your mind as you made your way to the large, restaurant-style kitchen as the first rays of sunlight began filtering through the windows. There were guards stationed here and there, but none bothered you; most likely assumed that Xanxus had made a demand that had you out of bed at the crack of dawn.

You stepped into the kitchen carefully, glancing around to make sure you were truly alone. The kitchen was dark and almost unnervingly silent compared to its bustling nature during the day – there were a lot of Varia members to feed, after all. 

You sighed in relief, making your way to the refrigerator stocked with Xanxus’s favorite meats, and opened the door. You figured they’d all be spoiled in a couple hours. 

 

The chaos that was erupting in the kitchen when you returned at your regularly scheduled time was enough to make guilt surge through you, but you knew this was a necessary evil – well, to you, anyway. Also, if Xanxus wasn’t such a petulant child about his food none of this would be warranted.

The chefs were speaking in strained voices and you could clearly hear their panic in their voices despite the language barrier. 

Putting on a concerned face, you asked in English, “Is everything okay?”

They turned their wide eyes on you, then, and your appearance seemed to make their anxiety spike – you were there to collect Xanxus’s breakfast, something they couldn’t possibly have ready. 

“Miss _first name_,” one of the chefs said, and you realized then you didn’t know his name – most mornings the food was laid out and they were too busy to address you. 

“Is everything okay, er—?”

“Marco,” he offered, and you nodded. He continued, “It’s not. The meat has gone bad – someone is on their way for more, but his breakfast will be late.” 

“Oh, well,” you paused, acted concern seeping over your features, “I’ll tell him.” 

“Miss – you don’t understand. When his food is late, or not cooked correctly, people get hurt.”

You sighed inwardly – add this to the reason Xanxus was too ridiculous for you. Getting that upset over food? 

The hard edge of determination entered your gaze, though, and you raised your chin slightly in response to what you perceived as another challenge. 

All of this had been to give you an excuse to spend the day solving a problem – you were pretty sure you could convince Xanxus to let you sneak away to the marketplace to get him something special to make up for it, or at least to oversee the kitchen to prevent further mistakes. 

But cycling within in you lately had been a strange, unhealthy mix of emotions – rage, lust, sadness – and you found them manifesting at odd times. Here, this was supposed to increase the distance between you and Xanxus, and now you almost wanted an excuse to argue with him just to have an outlet. The fact that you knew you could never really hurt him _and_ he was sort of a bastard made him seem all the more appealing as a punching bag. 

You shook your head to clear your thoughts – nope, don’t let the turbulence within you ruin your own scheme. 

Go tell Xanxus that his breakfast would be late, and then convince him to let you try to fix it. 

Then leave.


	12. Chapter 12

The office door was partially open, and you walked in with slightly heavier steps than you’d intended. You adjusted your gait to seem more casual, trying to at least _appear_ calm. 

Xanxus’s eyes snapped open at your appearance, his eyes narrowing when he saw your empty hands. 

“Trash—” he began, pausing to take in your response and smirking at the shift in your body language. Your eyes lit up; your entire body tensed. You'd gotten him to use your name before - was he really back to this shit already? 

You were sure he was about to level a threat at you but you interrupted, “Your breakfast will be late.”

You’d rehearsed the words you’d wanted to say the entire way to his office, but now that you were there you realized you didn’t have the self-control required to say even half of what you’d planned. You turned on your heel, stomping right back out. 

“Trash!” Xanxus called after you, his growl enough to make you shudder, but your feet didn’t stop moving. If anything, they sped up a bit. 

You’d meant to say something about going to the market for him. Instead – 

“I told you that’s not my name, you motherfucker!” 

Xanxus was on you impossibly fast, so much so that you were overwhelmed by the disequilibrium when he grabbed your upper arm and pulled you right back into his office. 

He brought his face close to yours to growl, “Try again.”

You gritted your teeth when the cool metal of a gun was pressed under your chin. Despite yourself, hot, angry tears gathered in your eyes almost immediately and you felt shame and embarrassment bubble up and intermix with your animosity. With your free hand, you smacked the gun away just long enough to reel back and slap him, screaming, “Fuck you!” 

Xanxus’s face was cocked to one side from the force of your slap, his eyes slightly wide. Your heart stopped as your fear came rushing back, hot and sour on your tongue, and you began shaking. 

Oh, he really was going to kill you now. 

The smirk reappeared on his face as he turned his head back to face you, and the dread made your body feel numb.

“Fucking weak little Trash – is that the best you can do?” 

You blinked at him, your thoughts racing. He holstered his gun and let go of your arm. He opened his arms, “Come on – or are you going to run away crying?”

The shame swirled within you again – not just at how weak you felt, but how you were letting this abusive bastard get to you – dear god, you were _crying_ in front of him. 

“Fuck you,” you said in a small, wet voice, your fists clenching at your sides. You were at a loss for what else to say.

He leaned back into your face, “You’ve already said that, Trash. What a worthless, pathetic little—”

You cut him off with a shove, leveling another slap at his face a moment later. He received both easily before laughing, the sound loud and cruel. 

You shrieked in anger then, launching yourself at him – clawing, grabbing, and trying to hurt him any way you could. You swore you got some good hits in, but he only continued laughing and taunting you.

You attacked him until you exhausted yourself, losing all sense of time. You panted heavily, your face red and streaked with tears, before you pulled your hand back again to weakly throw another punch at him. 

He caught your wrist easily, eyeing you with a bored expression. He had scratches running down his face, stark and red against the scars already adorning his flesh. He made no indication that he felt them, though. 

You had no more tears and you felt empty. You gently tugged at your wrist to free it from his grasp, confused by his shift in his expression – the malice was gone, instead replaced by an expectant frown. 

In response, you sent him a tired, questioning look, “Well, I completely embarrassed myself. Did you get what you wanted?” 

Xanxus studied you a moment before scoffing, “Did you?” 

With that, he turned away from you and moved behind his desk to plop down in his chair. 

You looked at him incredulously – had he just…? 

You looked at your own hands as you finally noticed how much they hurt. You’d wanted to use him as a punching bag, and maybe the fact that you’d been about to snap had been far more obvious than you’d realized. 

Xanxus said nothing, settling back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’ll go find you some breakfast,” you murmured, stepping out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha I have no idea what I'm doing with this fic hahaha I kinda feel like Xanxus would communicate through violence hahaha oh god help me I will be in the trash


	13. Chapter 13

Xanxus had said some artfully cruel things while you attacked him, but the suddenness at which his words had dried up still confused you. 

He had mocked you and your family, apparently more aware of your situation than you'd realized. You supposed that made sense - it would be unwise to take on a new assistant without proper vetting, but part of you had thought he was too haughty to care. He even brought up your uncle, saying that the man sent you to the Varia to die because he was too much of a coward to do it himself. It was a nice segue into reminding you how small and expendable you were. 

Well, at least you got some confirmation about your uncle from an outside source. 

You were trying to wrap your head around Xanxus's motive, though - had he wanted to see you fight? Was he testing you? Why on earth would he rile you up like that and then not once return a blow? 

You wanted to conclude all that had just been to fuck with you, to insult you, with the ultimate blow to your pride being the fact that he didn't even need to fight back.

But what had he said - he'd asked if you'd gotten what you wanted. What the hell did that mean? Did he think you _wanted_ to get hysterically upset while being belittled? 

Or had he actually let you attack him to...help you? Did he think he was providing you with some sort of catharsis? Maybe the exact catharsis you'd been looking for when you thought about using him as a punching bag...?

That was too bizarre, and you couldn't reconcile it with the schema that was Xanxus in your mind - he was handsome and powerful, intimidatingly so, but he was also an asshole who threw tantrums when his food wasn't cooked correctly. He was a drunk who verbally and physically abused people. He wasn't the type of guy to let sad girls take their emotions out on him, but he did seem like the type to enjoy demonstrating his superiority. 

Or he was more complex than you were giving him credit for. But you didn't want to think about Xanxus anymore. There was no way to stop yourself, apparently, but you didn't want to. 

When you made it to the kitchen, the chefs that noticed you froze, horror seeping into their vision. You looked at the clock and realized you'd been gone a whole hour - did they really not have his food ready yet? 

Marco approached you then, concern swirling on his face. 

"Breakfast ready?" you asked, surprised by the hoarseness in your voice.

"Miss, what did - are you alright?"

You stared at him in confusion, before it dawned on you that you probably looked frightful. A glance to one of the nearby stainless steel fridges confirmed your suspicions as your reflection stared back at you - your hair was tousled, your clothes wrinkled and uneven, and your face was still red. You had obviously been crying. 

You stared for a moment longer, and then, you laughed. It was a snort at first, before the laughter began bubbling up in your throat, and then it was bursting from you. You cried new tears then, your amusement overwhelming you when you saw how confused Marco was. The other chefs nearby had returned to their duties, but they took the time to send you their own confused or irritated glances.

"You should see the other guy," you finally choked out, laughing even harder after the fact. 

"Okay, Miss," Marco said in a soft tone, turning to fetch the tray with Xanxus's breakfast on it. 

On your way back to his office, you felt strange but not unpleasant - you felt relieved, like a weight had been lifted. You smirked to yourself - you still couldn't believe that Xanxus had done it for your benefit, but even so, it had been just what you needed. 

Your infatuation was still a problem, but you'd already screwed up that whole "maintaining a cool exterior" part, and if you were letting yourself fantasize then you could pretend Xanxus had his own version of a sweet side. 

With those thoughts swirling around, you nudged your way into the office holding the tray, apologizing for the delay with an airy tone. Xanxus was back to looking at you impassively, but you couldn't help but smirk again when you saw the scratches on his face. You said nothing about them, and neither did he. 

You missed the smirk he hid behind his cup of coffee. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops I'm turning Xanxus into a softy LOOK OUT


	14. Chapter 14

The morning passed rather peacefully, with you dutifully following commands that were offered in a cool voice. Your mind whispered that it should have been more awkward than it was – you didn’t have a roadmap for how to continue an interaction after clawing at someone like a cat – but Xanxus set the tone, and you followed his lead. 

But it really was peaceful.

Xanxus looked over some papers and it was the first time you'd seen him do anything resembling actual work. Come to think of it, Squalo had occasionally carried documents to and from the office so you’d assumed he played a larger role in business aspects of killing people for money. But you hadn't seen nor heard him since your wrestling match. 

You hadn’t seen Bel or Fran either, despite Bel’s initial vendetta against you. You shrugged and concluded you lucked out – they must’ve been on missions, which was fine with you. Fewer monsters in the hallways.

“File these,” Xanxus said then, holding some files in your direction without looking up from what he was reading. He sat reclined his chair, one foot resting across the opposite knee. 

You hopped off the window seat and hurried over. You took the files from him, briefly admiring the muscular forearm exposed by his rolled-up sleeve. Fuck, even his hands were attractive – they were somehow rough and elegant at the same time. 

You shifted your gaze quickly, regarding the files in your hands and then glancing around the office for a filing cabinet. This was the first clerical duty you’d been assigned, and you had no idea where they went. 

You heard the smirk in his voice when he asked, “Are you going to do your job or should I find another one for you?” 

He looked at you pointedly, the barest hint of amusement in his eyes despite the lack of a smile on his face. The little amusement was overshadowed by another emotion you chose not to identify. 

“I, ah—” 

You intentionally cut yourself off, your eyes widening slightly at the throaty quality of your voice. Well, there was a chance he wasn’t being suggestive, but your body certainly wasn’t aware of that. 

You intensely studied the folders, feeling his eyes bore into you as your entire body tensed. 

“Sorry, I don’t know where they go.”

You looked up only as he shifted in his chair. He uncrossed his legs, using his foot to tap one of the lower desk drawers. 

Even though you felt as though you were about to combust, exasperation overcame you, “Really? You’re right next to—”

You snapped your mouth shut again at the disturbing little grin that appeared on his face, and you knew whatever he was going to say next would cause your composure to snap. 

You dropped to your knees to open the drawer, trying to quickly begin working to avoid how the action could easily be misconstrued given what _job_ you were almost positive he was referring to. 

You chanced a glance up at him and regretting it immediately, your stomach twisting in discomfort. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide. _Damn it_. 

You at least had the open desk drawer separating the two of you, and you tried to mentally comfort yourself with the existence of a physical barrier, however small and ineffective. You focused on your task, looking for labels on the folders and finding the corresponding letters on the hanging folders in the drawer. The files were mostly labelled with names, but you were too focused on trying to ignore the slickness between your legs to do more than glance at them. 

“Is Squalo on a mission?”

You asked the question quietly, uncertain whether it was appropriate or not but desperate to fill the silence between the two of you. Some part of your brain sent up warning signals that another male was not a good topic of conversation, but some part of you also thought it might upset him just enough to take his attention off you. 

It seemed to work – Xanxus bristled, his back going rigid in his chair. His chin lifting slightly as he peered at you from under his bangs, “Why the fuck do you care?”

You shook your head, “I don't – I'm just sort of relieved for the quiet and I was wondering if he was going to ruin it any time soon.”

You couldn’t tell if he believed you or not. 

“You won’t be seeing him for a while,” he tried to sound calm as he said it, but the irritation was clear in his voice. 

You decided it was best not to ask about Bel or Fran.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry bbys, I moved across the country and started my first big kid job after grad school so I've been SO BUSY. but I wanted to at least put something here. so here is something.

The gold metal handles of the drawers clattered as your body hit the desk. The flittering of papers was quickly followed by the clang of desk ornaments hitting the floor. There was pressure on your wrists; on your hips. The world was gold and red hues and an earthy cologne. 

Your brain seemed to process each bit of sensory input separately, and the scene seemed to bounce in and out of reality as you opened your mouth to question. 

A tongue stopped you; it slid against yours and then sucked teasingly, its owner removing it from your mouth only to drag it down your neck. 

Black hair tickled your nose; feathers brushed your neck.

Xanxus.

“Xanxus,” you breathed in relief, and his smirking face swam into view, his eyes half-lidded and prurient. 

You heard a growl that seemed as though it was reaching your ears through murky water. He whispered something you couldn’t understand, his powerful hand catching your thigh and squeezing. 

There was an echoing boom, and his hips ground into yours, tearing a mewling cry from your throat. 

A hand squeezed your breast, teasing the nipple through your top, and then another boom sounded, seeming to shake the scene around you. 

“Xan—?”

The dull echo of an explosion rung in your ears as you bolted upright in bed. You looked around in bewilderment, greeted only by the dark expanse of your bedroom. What the fuck? Had you heard—?

You screamed and then clamped your hands over your month when yet another explosion sounded, the force shaking your bed. 

You briefly lamented about your lost dream—this wasn’t the explosive end you’d been hoping for. 

When you looked toward the bedroom door, the small sliver of hallway you could see remained dark and unmoving. Whatever was happening, it had begun in another part of the estate. 

You sat stock still in bed, your stomach twisting. The arousal from your dream had shifted quickly into panic, and now you felt unsettled and surreal. 

Your mind flashed back to just earlier in the day. You hadn’t even known where the files went—how the hell were you supposed to know what to do during an attack?

You sat longer, straining your ears. When no more explosions came and you heard no commotion, you began to question whether there was anything to worry about. Maybe there was a training exercise going on somewhere that no one had bothered to tell you about, because no one really told you about anything around here. 

You’d never be getting back to sleep until you knew, though. 

Your slid out of bed, your fear making your movements less fluid. You stumbled a little as you searched for your pants in the darkness but you dressed yourself quickly enough.

A grimace twisted your face as you pulled open your bedroom door, the characteristic squeak it always gave off sounding like a damn siren in the soundless hallway. 

“Now or never,” you whispered, jumping at the sound of your own voice.

~~~~

Moonlight streamed in from the windows, lighting your path down the corridors. You’d been walking stealthily as you could, which amounted to mimicking every spy you’d seen in movies. 

The longer you went without running into a guard the more your nerves buzzed. There was almost always someone on a nightshift rotation; they’d nearly scared you to death plenty of times already when you’d decided you couldn’t sleep and wanted a snack. Your brain began to stir into overdrive with possible scenarios, and many of them kindly brought the image of a bloodied and mangled Xanxus to mind.

“Oh God,” you murmured, leaning one shoulder against the wall. 

You paused there, closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing. You had to calm down. Your entire body was snapping with nerves and electricity, and you needed to have your wits about you, especially if you were to run into anything that wanted to harm you. 

And just when you felt as though you’d gotten your breathing under control, just when you’d pushed off from the wall to keep going, a hand closed over your mouth and your stomach dropped through the floor. 

You didn’t even have the wherewithal to scream before hot breath puffed against your ear, “Shhhhhhi~, you’re fine, little peasant,” Bel whispered, his hand tightening slightly on your face. “The Boss would want me to find you so here I am.”

He spoke quietly, and you weren’t sure whether that was to avoid startling you further or to avoid alerting others to your location. His hand slipped away from your face, brushing your lips in a way that seemed almost deliberate, and your brain went a thousand places at once. You turned to face him, still wide-eyed, before his words hit you. “Why would Xanxus want you to find me?”

Bel sneered a little, somehow still seeming amused, “Shi~, I’m sure he’s not done playing with you yet.”

You blanched at his words; it was amazing how much acidity a whisper could carry. It made everything sound sharper, and from Bel, crueler. 

You were about to speak, perhaps to ask him why he was such a bastard, or more importantly to clarify what on earth kept exploding, but he closed the distance between the two of you. Your started, attempting a step back only for your heel to hit the baseboard of the wall.

“Shishi~, don’t you want to know why I’ve been away?”

He leaned over you, and you softly fell against the wall to try to keep as much distance in between the two of you as possible. What the fuck was he doing? Was this another trick? 

“What the—I figured you were either killing someone or making someone’s life so unbearable they killed themselves. I can relate to the latter,” you whispered hotly, eyes narrowing.

Bel’s expression didn’t change, and he pressed forward as though he hadn’t heard you, “The Boss sent me away so he could have you all to himself~”

You blinked at him then, your head tilting ever so slightly, “Bel, all you’ve ever done is mess with me. Is that what this is? Are you about to turn into a scary clownmmf—”

His lips covered yours deftly, his hand slipping over the base of your skull to keep his mouth pressed to yours. 

He nibbled your bottom lip, dragging his teeth over it, before his tongue slid into your almost slack mouth. 

It felt so much like your dream. You wanted to be kissed by someone. You wanted intimacy again; you wanted to feel wanted. The same rush of arousal you’d woken up with resurfaced, but it felt muted and anomalous. This was…off. 

The hand not holding your head slid up your side, a thumb brushing the swell of your breast. 

It felt wrong.

You twisted your face away, gritting your teeth before crying out, perhaps too loudly, “Don’t touch me!” 

Bel seemed genuinely surprised, his hands falling away slightly. They tightened again a moment later as he hoisted you up off the ground and over his shoulder. 

Your breath was forced out as his narrow shoulder cut into your diaphragm, causing your protest to die in your throat. Your mind went wild with possibilities for a moment—was he going to throw you out the window? 

But then Bel was running, and when you lifted your head you saw dark forms coming around the corner, not far from the spot where Bel had just had you pinned to the wall.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll have a vacation coming up but until then this lil bit is all I’m happy with, and I’m not even that happy about it. I’m sorry!

Elsewhere in the estate, a sleeping Xanxus grumbled a name in his sleep. He’d slept through several explosions already, but as they grew more frequent, they came ever closer to rousing him.

When one finally did, he was livid. His body was tense and part of him had grown hard. He gave it no thought; given the subject matter of his dream, it was not a surprise. 

What did surprise him was the brief rush of anxiety he felt upon considering the situation more fully - where were the explosions? the intruders? 

You. Where were you? 

Anxiety was an emotion so foreign to him that his mind quickly shifted to irritation; the path of least resistance in his response to the world around him. 

The emotion may have lasted only a moment, and yet, it got him out of bed - another rarity for him. He typically felt no need or desire to move, even when under attack. 

Cursing, he pulled a shirt over his shoulders without bothering to button it. 

And he went to look for you.


	17. Chapter 17

“B-el,” you croaked out, your hands fisting into his uniform jacket to gain leverage from your perch on his shoulder. He was running, quickly and surprisingly smoothly, but the slight bounce from his feet was causing your already sore midsection to scream. 

“Quiet—it’s your fault they found us,” he replied, somehow speaking with no signs of exertion. 

You barked out a sarcastic laugh, “Yeah, I assaulted myself,” and then yelped when Bel’s canine nipped your leg that was nearest his mouth.

“You’re still being too noisy,” he reprimanded, the smirk clear in his voice.

You hit his back with all the force you could manage, “If you put your mouth on me again—” 

He stopped running and slid you off his shoulder, barely allowing your feet to touch the floor before he gripped your shoulders and brought his face to yours, “Shi~ If you’re going to be unpleasant, perhaps I should leave you behind.” 

“I don’t even know what we’re running from!” you hissed in return, glancing in the direction you came from. You saw no signs of the shadows that had previously been pursuing you. “For all I know, they’d be a safer option than you.”

“Let’s find out,” Bel returned, turning on his heel to stride away. Despite your distaste for Prince Grabby Hands, panic shot through you. 

“I thought Xanxus would want you to find me!” you tried, following quickly after him. 

“Shi…I was lying. I wanted to find you.” 

You faltered for a moment, blinking at his back. It was then that you reflected on the fact that he hadn’t left you behind yet. 

“So, I’m not just a plaything?”

Bel turned around to smirk at you, “Shishishi! Oh, you’re a plaything. But the Boss won’t look after you,” his smirk widened into a disturbing grin and he stopped walking, “but I will, if you swear your loyalty to the crown.”

“Bel,” you murmured, sounding exasperated.

“Yes, peasant?”

“How long until Xanxus sends you away again?”

~~~~

You and Bel walked quietly down the hallway, your pace slower and more distracted than his. 

Though the shadowy guests of the estate should’ve had your attention, you were preoccupied with your cut sleeve. Part of you was livid that Bel had thrown a knife at you in the first place; another, larger part was fascinated by the fact that he’d managed to cut the fabric of your shirt without cutting you skin. 

God, you hated assassins.

Sighing, you spoke to Bel’s back, “So, who are the intruders, then?” 

Bel shrugged without turning to look at you, “Corpses.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Then why did you run? Couldn’t you have sliced them up like my shirt?”

“I really should kill her,” Bel murmured to himself.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you grumbled, hastening your pace to stand next to him. “Will you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“Shi~ I’m taking you to your favorite place.”

Xanxus’s office immediately flashed in your mind, and your face flushed. There was no way Bel knew that you liked Xanxus, right? So, what could he mean? 

Your frantic thoughts were cut short when Bel suddenly shoved you, hard, and you heard the familiar scraping of stone; felt the same rush of air. 

And you found yourself alone, yet again, in a tunnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> throw me in the traaaaash. I'm so sorry it's been so long! I have a long vacation from work so I'm going to try to update more often. for now, please take these meager rations while I try to remember what the game plan with this story was. if you're still reading. oof


End file.
